


The Paths We Tread

by Larkawolfgirl



Series: Dare to Write Challenge [13]
Category: Tales of Berseria, Tales of Series
Genre: Canon Era, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 17:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11018526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larkawolfgirl/pseuds/Larkawolfgirl
Summary: Eleanor always prided herself for her strength, her perseverance. Yet Velvet has a strength Eleanor sorely lacks: resolution. Not once has Velvet questioned herself. Not once has she apologized for who she is or what she strives for. She wears her daemon skin with confidence that Eleanor shed with her exorcist title. As large a shadow as Velvet casts, Eleanor fears she will forever be shrouded by it.





	The Paths We Tread

**Author's Note:**

> For the Dare to Write Challenge. Prompt: Lost life
> 
> I started this a while back but didn't know where I was going with it. I kind of wish I had just left it off where it was instead of adding the dialogue since I think I mucked up the canon order of events.

Eleanor has always been a thinker. As much focus as she expends on the world and its occupants, she spent double that turning inward, deciding the best course of action. Lately, her thoughts have shifted somewhat, however. She always believed she knew what the correct path was, the justified path. She was a paladin helping the people against malevolent daemons. Not once did she consider the daemons’ wellbeing. Now, after witnessing first-hand the humanity daemons _could_ still cling onto and learning what lengths the exorcists would go to to cleanse the world, she finds herself wondering where she belongs.

She has no family to return to and no friends outside the exorcists who call her traitor. Even among her new-found companions she sticks out like a sore thumb (strangely for her normalcy). She is not daemon, nor malak, nor witch—not even worth the title of exorcist any longer. She is no longer sure what to call herself or what she longs for beyond seeing the Abbey’s aims thwarted.

Despite her inner conflict, she finds herself relaxing more and more among her not-so-distant enemies. The innocent Laphicet melts her heart with a mere smile while Magilou leaves not a dull moment. The oddest of her affections, however, is Velvet. The woman is vicious and bloodthirsty, yet beneath it all Eleanor can see the young girl she used to be, gentle and kind and full to bursting with dreams for the future—a future which was mercilessly ripped right out from her in a bloody wake.

Vengence is her driving force, and Eleanor can understand, can sympathize. Because vengeance has its own snare on her which she has only managed to hold back for lack of opportunity. She knows what it feels like to lose someone and knows that she would give in to that same tempting malevolent longing in a heartbeat, and it is this knowledge that their dispositions are not as distinct as they appear which allows Eleanor to warm to Velvet.

Now Eleanor finds herself wondering what Velvet thinks of her in return, a girl who naively followed the Abbey without question following unobtainable ideals. Eleanor always prided herself for her strength, her perseverance. Yet Velvet has a strength Eleanor sorely lacks: resolution. Not once has Velvet questioned herself. Not once has she apologized for who she is or what she strives for. She wears her daemon skin with confidence that Eleanor shed with her exorcist title. As large a shadow as Velvet casts, Eleanor fears she will forever be shrouded by it.

It is not until Laphicet begins to distance himself from Velvet that she realizes she may wrong, that Velvet may in fact envy her in one way or another. It was never meant to be a competition, yet she can feel Velvet’s eyes bore into her each time she speaks with Laphicet alone and watches the shudder that overtakes her when she reaches out a hand to ruffle his blonde hair.

And so, there is a distance between them as well now, a distance Eleanor finds herself wanting to close. She wants to understand Velvet and be understood in return. Because perhaps that understanding is what can save both of them in the end.

That is why Eleanor intentionally slows her pace so as to walk side by side with Velvet while the others tread on ahead. She can feel the hostility coming from the other woman. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you,” she began tentatively. Velvet eyes her questioningly. “You know I’m not trying to steal Laphicet away from you, right?”

“He may be bound to you, but I was the one who saved him from the Abbey,” Velvet spats.

“I know you’re jealous but you don’t control Laphicet.”

Velvet spins on her. “Who says I can’t?”

Eleanor holds her hands out in surrender. “Calm down.” She meant to alleviate her not agitate her further. “This isn’t how I meant for this to go. Can we just start over? All I meant was that I’m not trying to let between you two.” She stops walking to draw a line in the dirt with her shoe. “If anything, I want to become closer with you.”

This stops Velvet as well. The others are gaining some distance on them now, but neither pay them much mind. “Why?” Her voice is laden with suspicion, and honestly, Eleanor can’t blame her.

“I feel that we are sort of kindred spirits.”

Velvet crosses her arms. “We are nothing alike.”

“You’re wrong!” Eleanor lowers her voice to a mere murmur. “I lost my family as well. I understand some of what you are feeling.”

Velvet’s face softens. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t. I never said anything.” Eleanor resumes walking, paying extra attention to the scenery around them.

Velvet heaves a sigh. “Okay.”

“Hmm?”

“I get it. I’m being too hard on both of you. Laphicet isn’t some object I own. I just can’t bear the thought of losing him too.”

Eleanor meets her eyes. “I get it. He’ll come around eventually.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

Velvet stares at her for a long time before facing forward with a tiny smile. “I’ll take your word for it.”


End file.
